Vacation
by Jan Lee
Summary: [ONESHOT.] Just because the Young Ones are stuck in the Realm doesn't mean they can't take a break every once in awhile. Fluff. Eric-centric. Eric/Diana. February Story #1


**Summary**: [ONESHOT.] Just because the Young Ones are stuck in the Realm doesn't mean they can't take a break every once in awhile. Fluff. Eric-centric. Eric/Diana.

**Disclaimer**: I don't own "Dungeons & Dragons".

**Rating**: T

**A/N:** It has been so long since I played in this sandbox. I thought maybe I ought to try it out again.

* * *

><p><strong>Vacation<strong>

* * *

><p>"It sure is a nice day," Sheila said. Her contented face was upturned to the hot sunlight. "After that cave ordeal, I'd like to enjoy the sunshine some."<p>

Eric, parched, sweaty, and half dead on his feet when Sheila commented, harrumphed to himself. In front of him was Presto, Diana, Bobby (with Uni glued beside him), Sheila and of course Hank in the lead. They marched on the dusty trail, kicking up swirls of dirt. Surrounding them, as far as the eye could see, were barren, prickly bushes that scudded the plains. Several hills undulated toward the horizon. Every so often a snake rattled to the side or a prairie dog scampered off. Aside from those weak life signs, the Young Ones were the sole humans for miles in every direction.

"You know it would be nice if we could actually have a vacation," Eric said. He'd often toyed with the idea, but his big mouth never uttered the words. Even he knew how ridiculous it sounded, but today was too much effort to keep quiet. "This last baddie was brutal."

Diana glanced over her shoulder at him, her cocoa skin shiny. "That's about the dumbest thing I've ever heard you say, Eric."

"No, hear me out," he replied. He adjusted the shield to his other shoulder; even so, the muscles ached. "We've been doing one mission after another after another. I don't know about you guys, but I'm burnt out. Pooped!"

Eric's use of the word caused Bobby to giggle. Sheila shook her head, a 'what will I do?' gesture if Eric ever saw one. He licked his cracked lips as Diana slowed so she could trudge beside him.

"I know you're tired. We all are. But we can't stop fighting Venger because of that," she said in her sweet tone that turned him mushy. "Don't you want to get home as soon as possible?"

He snagged her liquid dark eyes with his. Her words were so persuasive in that throaty voice, and he itched to smooth a hand on her taut belly. Sweat dripped off the end of his nose, stung his eyes. "Yes. Yes, I want to go home where there is air-conditioning, and cars, and cars with air-conditioning. But what good will we be if we get to the next bad guy and we're so tired, we can't even lift our feet, let alone our arms? Let's face it," he sighed, "we need some time to recuperate."

"Time to recuperate from your complaining, you mean," Presto said. He plugged his ears for emphasis. "Geez, enough already."

At this, Hank halted and faced the straggling group, waiting while they gathered in a loose circle around him. Eric noticed how tight their fearless leader's jaw was, and rolled his eyes because he knew what was coming next. The high and mighty pep talk.

"Guys, Diana is right. Taking a break would give us a temporary lift, but we'd be putting off getting back home. And we have Venger to be wary of. We can be sure he won't be taking time off," Hank told them, as reasonable as always.

Eric wanted to puke from Hank's sensibility. Instead, he dumped his shield to the ground. It clanged crest-down. Plumes of dust puffed up from under it. "Hank, I'm so bone-weary that I would dare Venger to put me out of my misery on the spot." He lifted his arms up in surrender and shouted to the stark white sky. "Do y'hear me, Hornhead? Come and get me! Please? I'm begging ya!"

"Eric," Sheila said to quell his rebelliousness.

He turned on her, entrenched in his righteous annoyance. "Don't _Eric _me. I've had enough of tramping all over this godforsaken planet and for what?"

Eric paused for someone to answer, but none of them did, as he thought. He barreled ahead. "Nothing, that's what. How much closer are we to getting home, hunh? And don't give me that 'the next mission could be our last' crap. You played that tune five missions ago." He crossed his arms and plunked his butt on a hot rock next to them. "Taking a few days off won't make a lick of difference, and you _know _it."

"You don't have to take it out on Sheila," Diana said. "There's no need to be mean."

"It's okay." In her hurt, Sheila shrugged deeper into the Cloak regardless of the hundred degree temperature.

Eric directed a meaningful gaze at Hank. "Maybe if I had a few days of real rest, I wouldn't be so irritated."

Hank glared back and an uncomfortable silence settled over the Young Ones. Eric didn't care about the awkwardness. What he cared about were his blistered feet, his sizzling-hot armor, and the solid weight of his shield. What he cared about was not having the responsibility of keeping his friends alive through the next fight for a couple days. Was that so much to ask?

Aggravated, Hank carded a hand through his hair, and his ruddy complexion had nothing to do with the heat. He put his back to them and stalked off a few feet. There he stood, stance wide, contemplating the horizon. Eric sagged in relief. Hank's reaction meant he took what Eric said seriously. Eric held out hope for an agreeable resolution.

"Sheila," Eric shifted his gaze to her, "I didn't mean to get upset with you. And don't you dare forgive me in the next second."

Her red hair was a copper gleam in the sun, her bangs plastered to her forehead. "I know you didn't mean it." She gave him a tiny smile. "And since you insist, I won't forgive you."

"Good. You should maybe give me the silent treatment while you're at it." Eric pressed his palms together to mime a prayer. "That would teach me."

Sheila laughed, but Diana put her hands on her hips. "Well, _I'm_ not going to let you off the hook, your royal crankiness." The frown looked like she chewed on sour grapes. "I can't believe Hank is even _considering _your proposal. A vacation is just plain old silly. And if you recall," she tapped his chest with her forefinger, "it was getting out during our vacation that landed us here in the first place."

Eric brushed away her hand. "If you're going to be technical, it was Bobby who dragged us into line for the ride o' hell. My point is that before we risk our lives for the thousandth time, we should have more than two successive days of sleeping, eating, and general reconnoitering."

Presto's low whistle drew everyone's attention to him. "Oh, boy. We better watch it. Eric's using big words. His head might explode at any moment."

Bobby laughed his horned barbarian head off, clutching at his side and doubled over, until Eric sniffed with annoyance. Then Bobby's laughter became contagious, catching up Sheila, then Presto, and finally Diana. Those traitors.

"You're a barrel of laughs, Presto." Eric was too tired to come up with a better retort. He grabbed the hem of his cloak and wiped his forehead. "My head exploding would at least end my misery."

They sobered, however, when Hank rejoined them. Planting his unstrung bow to the ground, he turned his burning Norse eyes on Eric, and a slight frown drew down his mouth.

"If you all agree with Eric, we can tell Dungeon Master to not give us any more jobs to do, at least for a week," he said. "What do you say?"

"Hank, you didn't have to ask us," Sheila said to soothe him. She reached across to squeeze his forearm. "We'd follow whatever decision you'd made."

Eric snorted. "Speak for yourself."

"You are being a huge pain in the neck!" Diana punched his shoulder hard enough that Eric winched from it and rubbed the spot. "Presto, do you have a gag in the Hat? I've had enough of Eric's big mouth."

"Can we get serious? Guys, you want a vacation or not?" Hank cut through their bickering. "As much as I hate to admit it, Eric's right about our being tired. Maybe we do need some time to recharge. I…can see where he's coming from, at least."

Bobby spoke up from beside his sister. "Kinda like our weapons that one time. Our juice is low."

Hank and Bobby both seemed to be sincere. Eric didn't hear any joke in Hank's admittance, and that put him on guard. Had Hank agreed? With one of _his_ ideas? Hank's brains could be cooked from the sun; sunstroke or whatever kids got during hot weather. To mask his rising thrill, Eric schooled his features into cool indifference. His heart beat faster at the mere possibility of the group, for once, agreeing with him.

"Presto?" Hank asked. "Sheila?"

Sheila shrugged, as easygoing as always, but Presto rubbed his chin. "A whole week, with no death threats? No tripping into Tiamet's cave? Or ducking Venger's wrath?" He scratched his hairline. "I guess, count me in!"

And last, Hank looked to Diana. "What do you say?"

Diana would never agree, Eric thought, and he prepared for her rejection. She wasn't a push-over like Sheila could be and would not be selfish in her decisions, like he was. Besides, Hank counted on reliable, dependable Diana for the final word. Diana only had to laugh and say no, and it would be over with. That's all, folks. Kaput.

Diana glanced at him, considering, then she sighed. "Fine. Where are we going?" Her tone was flat, unenthusiastic, but when the group cheered, a timid smile broke across her face.

"Then it is agreed," said a new voice from among them. Standing at knee-height was Dungeon Master with a broad forehead and his ruby red robe. "You shall have your reward."

It happened too fast for anyone to react with their typical astonishment. He flourished his hands, his robe sleeves swept up in the gesture, and a calm, golden light burst over them. Eric flinched from it, felt cold wind whip his cheeks. As suddenly, it stopped.

He fell flat on his back hard enough to knock out the air from his lungs. "_Oof!"_ When his shield slammed into his chest, his ribs took the brunt of it. Agony flickered to every nerve. "UNH!"

Half senseless from pain and breathlessness, he squeezed shut his eyes and listened for the others. After a moment, he heard them stir. They had sprawled around him like bowling pins, shaking free of whatever transport method Dungeon Master had used on them.

While he recovered, Eric soaked in the green everything- -green trees and grass and vines, enough cause his eyes to water. Weepy willows trailed tendrils into a sparkling blue lake. Birds wheeled and called overhead. Nestled on a hillock was a cottage with a gate and garden. The place looked like heaven. The Young Ones gasped in awe.

Eric crawled to his feet and slipped his shield to his forearm. Even in awe, he was not speechless. "What in the world? Where the heck are we?"

"Looks like it's our vacation home," said Presto. "Cool."

In a staggered line, they walked toward the cottage. The windows shone with clean scrubbing, the walk was swept, and bunches of flowers decorated the small garden at the foot of the house. Hank tried the door and with a surprised glance back, pushed it open. Inside was much larger than what the outside had made Eric think. It was comfortable and cozy, with bunkbeds enough for everyone. They fanned out to explore.

Yet Eric remained at the door, gaping. That couldn't be it. It couldn't be possible for them to be dumped here, _upon request_, to spend a lazy week. The other shoe would drop and it would drop soon. The idea nagged him, nibbled at him, and soured his outlook.

"What's the catch?" Eric asked no one in particular. "There has to be a catch, right? There's _always_ a catch."

Diana flicked up his tunic's bottom hem. He slapped it down before she got an eyeful. Laughing from her throat, she said, "Isn't this what you wanted? Some peace and quiet away from it all?"

"I suppose. But it seems too convenient. Too easy."

"Eric! You whined and complained about needing a vacation and now we're here and you're going to whine and complain about getting it?" She hooked her arm through his and guided him out the door, leaning his shield against the wall beside the door. "You're unbelievable."

He let her tug him into a meandering path around the cottage. Eric settled into their silence, and shifted his arm across her shoulders. Diana wrapped her arm around his waist. He had almost forgotten how much he craved her touch, but his awareness of her flared up. The further they walked, the more his muscles tensed, the more his gut twisted, the more his body ached. When they came to the bank of the lake and had strolled along it until the cottage was some distance behind them, Diana tugged him around to face her.

"At last, I have you to myself," she murmured. She bounced up on her toes. "My Cavalier."

She brushed his mouth with hers at first, teasing, smiling, and he can't stand being apart. He caressed her chin, tilted her head, and took her mouth. He no longer cared to wonder at the reason of their being beside this lake, of why the Dungeon Master spelled them here. His mind was on Diana, lovely athletic Diana, and how they were never alone. She relaxed into his arms, melted, sagged against him, and allowed him to deepen the kiss so that a haze fogged his brain.

After a long moment, she broke from the kiss, her eyes half-lidded. "Should we have a swim?"

"In that nasty water? No way, Jose," Eric told her. "Only chlorinated pool water for me."

"Please, Eric. Spare me. You've fallen in worse than lake water since we've been here."

"No," he told her and crossed his arms.

"Fine, then." Diana fluffed her hair. "You rich boys have no concept of fun. Let me at least help you with your armor."

Before he could even protest, she undid the clasps holding his cloak and by then, he didn't have the capacity to argue. When the cloak pooled at his feet, even shucking that minor weight alleviated his shoulders and back. Diana's nimble fingers worked the belt buckle, loosening it until he could pull the entire tunic over his head. His gauntlets were next, then the chainmail and the undershirt that protected his skin from the mail. Each successive piece lightened his spirits, cooled him so that the heat wasn't quite as intense.

"I can breathe," he told her, sucking in the damp lake and grass smell. He rolled back his shoulders, heard them pop. "I feel like a load's off."

Diana rubbed a hand to his ribs. "Holy smokes, Eric. That's quite a bruise."

He looked down. Sure enough, the evidence of the last battle spread a nebulous eggplant-colored cloud under his skin, mixed with a livid red where the chainmail had cooked flesh. "Not surprising."

"When did that happen?" She spread a gentle hand over it. Heat simmered inside him. "It looks painful."

"Oh, you know. Fighting for our lives," he said, but when he noticed the worried furrows in her forehead, he relented. "It's not too bad. Don't worry about it. I'll be fine." To show her how fine he was, he flexed his biceps and shot her an impish grin.

She snorted. "I've never known you to be so quick to brush off an injury."

"A bruise is a dumb thing to complain about," he replied, "compared to your pulled muscles and sprained ankles."

The final wall inside her seemed to splinter, and her gaze went utterly soft. "Eric," she murmured, "does that self-deprecation hurt you any?"

"Not as much as you would think," he said and pressed another kiss to her full lips. He could get lost in the maze of emotion he had for her. They'd snuck around so much it was second nature to steal caresses and kisses and smoldering gazes.

She accepted, and after a moment, she leaned back. "I'm sorry, but that water's calling my name. You sure you won't join me?"

"I'm sure. I'll watch from here to make sure you don't drown." He wiggled his eyebrows. "Also, I'm hoping for that outfit to come undone."

"You're a perv, you know that?" she said, but she laughed and playfully shoved him.

She kicked off her boots, waded into the lake and dove under the mirror-still water, wearing her furry little bikini. Unperturbed, he hunkered down on the cool grass to wiggle off his own boots, dug his toes into the soft earth, and watched as she broke the surface, body gleaming with droplets of water.

"Oh, Eric! The water's so nice!" she called to him. "You should come in!"

"I'm good. Really. Don't worry about me."

"Suit yourself!" Then she dove back under the water.

Drowsy, Eric flopped to his back. They had picked a spot under a willow tree. A breeze rustled the overlong tendrils, sweeping through the trees with a whisper. Songbirds twittered; in the background, he heard Diana splashing in the lake.

The noise faded. How long had it been since he felt safe? Much too long. In fact, not since Ramoud had they relaxed enough to not take watches. But above all, he missed home. The routine of waking up, going to class, being the spoiled rich kid pampered by parents with too much money and too little time to actually pay any attention to him.

His eyelids drooped. On second thought, maybe the Realm was his vacation from home, a place where he wasn't ignored or left to himself or a disappointment. At least here he was worth something. He could spend time with people who cared about him.

The summer sounds faded into a background hum.

* * *

><p><strong>AN:** The ending is abrupt, and I apologize for that. I'm getting used to writing an ensemble cast again. Please let me know your thoughts and concerns. Hopefully more D&D stories will come forth. =)


End file.
